Heil Mary
January 23rd, 2009Mary Heilmann, to quote Christina Aguilera, just Keeps Getting Better. The 2008 Whitney Biennial already noted her fruitful influence by pairing her with the indispensable Rachel Harrison. And through Rachel Harrison, inevitably included in the New Museum’s “Unmonumental,” Mary Heilmann, an SVA faculty member, was invoked as a foremother to the “movement” of unmonumental, disheveled Specific Objects. What would her paintings, sculptures, and ceramics be if they were people? They’d live near the beach, wear sandals, and greet you, “Hey, man.” They’d nod assuredly if you bring up Robbe-Grillet, because they get it, and maybe have read it, but why not talk about something else, like did you see that Mustang parked next door?
Consequently, it is difficult to describe her work without sounding pedantic. It’s like explaining a joke after delivering the punch line; it kills it.
And it’s hard to describe her work without using terms more applicable to describe personality, especially virtues or at least desirable traits. Exuberant. Casual. Honest. Natural? Yet, it would be easy to describe her work as a rigorous, feminist critique of geometric abstraction, of being hard-edged, unremitting, goal-oriented, impermeable.
Responding to that aesthetic, Mary Heilmann cultivates rich, variegated fields that invite examination through – and not just across – the layers of slathered, dripping color. Orange glows from under acidic blue, lime green giggles beneath chilly white, phthalo green whispers behind syrupy black. Nothing ever seems to vanish, and even textures survive the process: the masking tape used to rule polygon shapes often pulls up neighboring paint, leaving jagged scars.
The word I’d choose is “transparent.” The process reveals itself, and the mechanisms are transparent. This is unlike traditional geometric abstraction, in which the surface often looks – at least to me – opaque, solid, and unfettered; and in which the application seems determined, programmatic, and more applied than painted. In that realm, a viewer might be unable to reconstruct the process of “making” the painting; the process is concealed by the seeming simultaneity of the choices involved. With Mary Heilmann, most layers resist being smothered by those above them – or maybe those above them resist smothering those below them. Thus, dashing one layer atop another seems to be an attempt to conceal the underlayer, but actually reveals a larger goal of her aesthetic.
With goals accomplished, and her New Museum show closing this weekend, Mary Heilmann has a show of mostly new work at 303 Gallery, and has curated a delightful group show, “Mary’s Choice,” at the other 303 space. The latter has a sense of intimacy, like that of a tight-knit group, proven by collaboration and mentorship connections. I felt like I was joining a campfire conversation that had already lasted several days.
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My favorite object was Jill Levine’s “Clap Trap,” which looked to me like Murakami meets Dia de los Muertos, or any one of Craig Hein’s small sculptures. SVA alum Paul Gabrielli is there, with a satellite from his solemn, inventive show at Invisible-Exports Gallery downtown. Paul Lee’s “Untitled (Black Bulb with blue washcloth)” could be an heir to Mary’s 1970s work, in their Richard Tuttle-tarian economy.
Paul Gabrielli, "Dark Movie," 2008
Mary Heilmann even wrote a book, “The All Night Movie.” In addition to the adjectives above, I forgot to suggest the word “energetic” above. Hopefully, that implies “inexhaustible,” as this great artist becomes even more prominent in the canon of abstract painting.